Bulletproof Witch

by F J Blair

  Flinging herself across the threshold, Temperance slammed the cabin door behind her. There was nothing like a lock to keep it closed, so instead she grabbed the table and tipped it over.

  That’s not going to keep the lurker out for long, she thought, listening to the sounds of the monster’s thudding footsteps. Even if it did, sooner or later it’ll take out a window, or maybe just an entire wall.

  Perhaps the creature heard her thoughts. Glass shattered as an enormous claw struck the side of the cabin. Logs around the windows buckled, several of them starting to splinter already. Temperance looked around for a place to hide. The open trap door beckoned to her.

  She barely had time to think before her body was hurtling towards the opening. Sliding into the alcove, she reached up and pulled the door down on top of her. The light cut off immediately, other than a crack of it where the boards didn’t quite meet. Temperance’s heart hammered in her chest, and her breathing sounded so loud she wondered if the lurker would hear it even over its own destruction.

  The whole cabin shook from a series of blows, followed by the sound of thudding steps. The steps came to a halt almost on top of where she hid, and the lurker took several loud sniffs. A soft whimper escaped from Temperance’s throat.

  Please, please, please, just go away. Please don’t notice me. Oh, haven’t I been through enough already? I don’t want to die here, not like this . . . .

  The lurker gave another hiss, this one sounding full of frustration. A second later the thudding footsteps retreated, the sound fading away into the distance. Temperance didn’t dare even breathe for fear it would bring the creature’s return.

  When she had counted to six hundred and the lurker still hadn’t returned, Temperance let herself relax. She pushed against the trap door, met resistance, and pushed harder. With a groan the door lifted away, bits of dirt and moss and other debris cascading around her. She stood up and stared about the cabin with wide eyes.

  Well, cabin wasn’t the right word for it, not anymore. There wasn’t a wall of the building left standing. The stove and her bed were gone entirely, and only one leg of the table remained. Dented cans lay strewn about among the broken timbers. Several yards away where she had laid them out to dry were her rope fibers, amazingly untouched by everything that had happened.

  Temperance turned a slow circle, taking in the destruction. Overhead, the sun was already slipping over the edge of the cliff, and the air had started to gain the chill it carried at night, nevermind it still being summer down in the lowlands. She shivered, then shivered again.

  Aw, heck, what am I going to do now?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Wellspring Hotel was several blocks behind her before Temperance managed to calm down enough to notice where she was. Somehow she had managed to wander in the opposite direction from the sheriff’s office and now found herself in a busy commercial district she didn’t recognize.

  People walked about, rushing on towards whatever it was that occupied their time, but any of them that happened to glance in her direction skirted away as far as the sidewalk would allow. She could still feel her frustration pouring off of her like a bad stench.

  Her jaw also ached from sawing away at her teeth. She swished some saliva about her mouth, then spat to one side. It splattered near the shoes of an older man in a black waistcoat. He turned to glare at her, saw her expression, and appeared to remember urgent business elsewhere.

  I can’t believe the nerve of that boy—girl—whatever. Calling me a monster. Me! After I’ve shown every possible consideration. It’s not like I asked for any of this. All I wanted was to get my horse back and find Varconis. Now I’ve got to deal with a whole host of other nasty things threatening my country, and William is worried about something as meaningless as this. We could have avoided so much trouble if he—she—had just been honest with me in the first place.

  Temperance’s first instinct was to talk with Astor. He seemed to know more about these sorts of situations than she did, although likely even her horse would find this one to be a first. The briefest flicker of a smile played across her face.

  Then reality settled back in, and she remembered that Astor was still gone. She was alone in this, just like in everything else. The thought filled her with an immeasurable sadness, an ache inside of her that had been there since this whole mess started, but which she had managed to keep locked away. It appeared that the lock was now broken beyond repair.

  She turned her steps back towards the sheriff’s office, although all she wanted was to curl up in a corner and shut the world out for good. Once again everything had gone wrong in every possible way. Each step forward was a monumental effort.

  Not like it’s my fault this time. William should have realized the trouble he—she was making. I’ve been supportive this whole journey, and all I asked for was a little honesty.

  Of course, You’re not exactly innocent in that regard, either. It’s not like you explained who you were when you met.

  Temperance frowned as a sudden flush of guilt ran through her, then shook her head. No, that’s not the same. William wouldn’t have known what my family name meant. Nothing would have come of sharing that information. Nothing would have changed.

  The sheriff’s office appeared before her, the squat building appearing withered under the sunlight. Temperance paused at the first step. Another thought flitted through her mind. It was her own thought, and yet it wasn’t. Nothing would have changed had you known about William, either. Can you truly say such a secret matters?

  It would have mattered to me.

  Why?

  Because . . . . Temperance grasped for the right words, then shook her head again. She tried a different tactic. William still broke our promise. Whether it had been about this or something else, things still would have gone sour between us.

  Is that really true? Perhaps it bothers you that William isn’t as you thought he was. The voice in Temperance’s head took on a condescending tone. She bristled, even as it continued, Perhaps you simply don’t like the idea that this doesn’t conform to your perceptions. That this, like so much of the world your grandfather left behind, doesn’t match the image of reality you have constructed for yourself.

  That’s not it at all! This is about the truth!

  Yes. The truth that you left a confused fifteen year old boy on his own in a strange, foreign land. All because you couldn’t offer him the small dignity that he asked of you.

  “But that’s not—” Temperance realized she had spoken the words aloud and clacked her teeth together. A woman making her way down the steps gave a strange look before hurrying on her way. In her mind, Temperance said, that’s not it at all. If William wishes to think of himself as a man, it matters not to me.

  But he didn’t want to just think of himself as a man. He wanted you to as well. And in your anger, all you saw were more lies.

  Temperance shook her head, not knowing how to respond. The voice in her head continued speaking, its tone growing almost melancholy. It’s not like we expected any better from you. Your grandfather was an inflexible man, and Martin’s influence wasn’t likely much better. If you won’t even show respect for this poor boy, what hope is there that you will ever—

  The words cut off, but not quick enough. With a shiver, Temperance shook herself from the stupor that had been holding her in place. Realization coursed through her: these were not her own thoughts. Not her own voice. She had heard this once before, on the midnight streets of Arkton. The night that she and the warden Lilac Scrimshaw had discovered the Brotherhood were stealing hexbullets. While the truth had escaped her notice then, it struck her now with a gut-rending sense of terror.

  There was someone else inside her head. Something else.

  Who are you? she demanded.

  The voice inside her head did not respond. The sense of its presence had departed as well. She was alone again.

  Shaken, Temperance looked about her. The street was empty for the moment.
She looked about, but didn’t see anyone standing in the nearby windows. Whoever—or whatever—that had been, it didn’t appear to come from nearby.

  What in the frozen flames of Hell was that? It took a half-dozen breaths before Temperance felt steady enough to move. Am I being watched? How long has this been going on that I simply didn’t notice?

  The thought left her more worried than she cared to be. She stood there, waiting to feel a presence in her mind again, but after several minutes it was clear that nothing further was going to happen. Remembering her reason for visiting the sheriff in the first place, she continued up the steps, trying to disentangle her own thoughts from that of the voice.

  What that thing had to say doesn’t matter. The pig is out of the barn with William already, no chance it’s getting put back in. Doesn’t matter what thoughts I had on the subject, mine or otherwise.

  Doesn’t matter.

  Bella Wolf was standing inside the main office, talking with several men next to a board pinned with maps and wanted posters showing rough charcoal drawings. Several of them Temperance recognized as Whittaker’s men, and one of Richard Whittaker himself. Conversation died as she entered the building, and the Sheriff broke into a grin as she saw her.

  “Miss White—ah, Temperance! I’m glad to see you changed your mind.”

  “Yeah, well five hundred kos is a hard offer to turn away.” Temperance found she couldn’t look the immense woman in the eye.

  “Five hundred?” One of the men standing nearby sputtered. “You didn’t promise me and Jim more than thirty-five! Ain’t we risking our necks just as much here?”

  The sheriff gave the man a cool look. “You aren’t a Pistol Warlock, Frank. Show me you’re worth the coin out there though, and maybe I’ll see a little extra come your way.”

  Frank gave a mutter as he wandered out of the room. The sheriff turned to Temperance as the others departed. “First order of business, I’ll have to have you sign a few papers, then I’ll deputize you proper. You still got a horse to ride, or did you sell them already?”

  “Your friend Mister Sharp actually offered to take them off our hands. Worked out well at the time, or so I thought. Guess the Divines are having a bit of a laugh at me now for my haste.”

  Sheriff Wolf frowned. “The Divines have a plan for all men and women. It’s not up to us to guess our part in it. Still, bad luck about the horses. I’ll talk with Norman later and see if I can’t arrange to let you borrow the beast back for a small fee.”

  “Much obliged in that regard. You can take it out of my commission.”

  “Already planned on just that.” The sheriff grinned, then motioned her over to a table. “I just need to get your signature on a few forms, make sure everything is by the books. Are you familiar with the rules that Pistol Warlocks need to abide by while employed as deputies?”

  “You mean like not using lethal ammo?”

  “You’re thinking of Federation appointees. We’re not quite that limited out here in the southern territories. You get a chance to put one of Whittaker’s men down for good, you take it, you hear?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Temperance said with a smile, thinking back to the dozen or so she had left on the wrong side of the dirt already. The next moment the smile faded. “Miss Wolf? One thing you should know. I’m not a Pistol Warlock. I’m a Pistol Witch.”

  The sheriff frowned. “What is the difference?”

  “Well, for one thing, I’m a girl.”

  “Is that all?” Bella gave a hearty laugh. “Doesn’t matter to me what you’ve got between your legs. If you fight like a Pistol Warlock, then you abide by the rules for a Pistol Warlock.”

  Temperance shook her head. “There’s more to it than that. I also—”

  She froze, a cold realization settling on her as the sheriff’s words came together in her skull. How much time have I spent trying to make everyone see magick differently, fighting against the notions of sorcery that hold this country back? How much frustration have I endured because of people’s ignorance?

  How was what I said to William any better?

  “Now, if you’ll just sign here, Miss Whiteoak.” Temperance blinked, and found a pen in her hand, a piece of paper just inches beneath it. She tried to focus, but the words on the page blurred in front of her.

  This is wrong.

  She set down the pen. Bella looked at her, a frown creasing the sheriff’s face. “Miss Whiteoak? Everything alright?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t go with you after all. There’s something I just remembered I have to do.”

  She turned towards the door. The sheriff called out after her, but the words were lost beneath the buzzing in Temperance’s ears.

  Somewhere outside, a bell chimed the hour. She tried to remember what time the train for Messanai departed.

  Please, don’t let me be too late.

  * * *

  The train station was quiet. A young couple with a child in blue corduroy waited at one end of the platform. At the other, a figure stood hunched over in his traveling clothes, watching for the approach of the train.

  Temperance stepped from the shadows of the conductor’s office, breathing heavy. She hadn’t stopped running since the moment she left the sheriff’s office. Fortunately, it appeared that the effort had been worth the trouble.

  She approached the figure standing at the far end. Afternoon sun streamed down, not exactly warm, but enough so that it felt nice to be out in it. Or perhaps that heat was from her mad dash to get here. Either way, it chased away the nervous feeling in her gut. She tried to think of what she should say first.

  I need to apologize, even if I’m not entirely sure what for. I may not understand this whole situation, but if it’s important to William, then I can at least try to make the effort.

  “William,” she said gently when she was only a few yards away. The boy didn’t turn around. Temperance spoke louder. “William, it’s me. Listen, we need to talk—”

  The figure turned around, and Temperance near jumped out of her skin. Richard Whittaker grinned and stretched to his full height as he cast away the traveling coat. “Expecting somebody else, Girlie?”

  A small part of Temperance recognized the coat as the one she had purchased for William just yesterday and wondered how the bandit leader had obtained it. The rest went for her guns.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Richard rested a hand on his own holster. “Not unless you want to listen while my men slit your friend’s throat.”

  Temperance froze, her hands only inches from her revolvers. She risked a glance over her shoulder, following the bandit leader’s gaze. A dozen or more men had emerged from inside the conductor’s building. Two of them had William bound and gagged between them. The boy’s eyes found hers. They were wild and afraid.

  She turned back to Richard. “Attacking citizens in broad daylight? You think Sweetwater’s sheriff is going to stand for this?”

  “You shouldn’t worry too much about old Sheriff Wolf right now.” As if in response, several gunshots rang out in the distance, followed by shouts of alarm. “No, I’d be more concerned about yourself, if I was you.”

  Temperance stared at the bandit, then glanced at his men again. “How many men are you willing to lose for your revenge, Whittaker?”

  “Many as it takes. Situation has changed, Girlie. As you’re about to find out.”

  The men behind her advanced. Temperance braced for a hail of bullets, but none of the men drew on her. Instead they hefted clubs, hammers, or large tree branches. Her heart sank as she realized what they intended to do. From behind her Richard gave a deep laugh.

  “Your coat may be bulletproof, but we’ll see how well it stands up to a good, old-fashioned beating.”

  Temperance started to draw her revolvers, but the sight of the two men standing behind the others, William between them, stayed her hand. Instead, she swiped a hand along the side of her coat. Perhaps if she could get over these men, she could str
ike William’s guards before they had a chance to react.

  The coat gave an angry groan, and then leather began wrapping around her. Temperance’s eyes widened as she recognized the coat’s self-defense system activating. “No! Not now you stupid—” Her words cut off as leather wrapped over her face, sealing away the sight of Richard’s men.

  Then the first of the clubs struck her. Even through the hardened leather, the blow sent a shock of pain coursing up her spine. Another blow followed, and another. Temperance rocked back and forth, the pain enough to blind her if she hadn’t been trapped in darkness already. She struggled against the tight grip the jacket had upon her.

  Blow after blow followed, until at last she stopped trying to reach the controls along her leather cocoon. Her movements grew sluggish. A particularly painful blow struck across the back of her neck, and Temperance found herself tumbling away into darkness, a black void reaching up to grasp at her with icy tendrils and the cries of all those she had ever failed to save.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The world returned in fits and starts. A flash of color here, a rumbling murmur there. She had a sense of someone—or perhaps several someones—gripping her arms, her feet dragging limp and sore behind her. Then darkness claimed her senses once again.

  When she next resurfaced, it was with a flash of icy shock as water poured over her. She coughed and spat to one side. Another wave followed the first, the cold sinking through her clothes to press frozen fingers onto her skin.

  “Well, well, look who finally decided to wake up.” She recognized the voice of Richard Whittaker. The words were followed by coarse laughter.

  Temperance blinked the water from her eyes and looked around. Foggy shapes flickered in and out of focus before resolving into the leader of the Gunpowder Gang standing before her with several of his men. The crackle and glow of a fire lay behind them, everything else falling away to darkness.